


a truth so loud you can’t ignore my youth (my youth is yours)

by whyyesitscar



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, a happy ending i promise!, because sometimes you just need some good ol' resurrection feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: the journey out of darktow is not without its casualties. // alternate continuation of episode 43





	a truth so loud you can’t ignore my youth (my youth is yours)

**Author's Note:**

> "yall...........................who wants to write me the angst of beau actually dying and being resurrected or her father kidnapping her again back to the family home and the party just losing it"
> 
> blame everything on [@youngbloodbuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngbloodbuzz). of course there's a bunch of backstory that didn't make its way into the fic itself, but isn't that just how these things go.
> 
> who knew my first fic in a year and a half would be angst when i've spent so much time devoting myself to fluff. regardless, please enjoy!
> 
> (lyrics from "YOUTH" by troye sivan, but we all knew that)

_what if we run away_   
_what if, what if we left today_   
_what if, what if we say goodbye to safe and sound._

_what if, what if we're hard to find_   
_what if, what if we lost our minds_   
_what if, what if we looked behind_   
_and then never found_

/

**i.**

“Jester, please take Beauregard below deck.”

“No, Caleb; everyone is hurt and Caduceus is out of spells and you need someone to _heal you_ , Caleb, and I am your cleric--”

“I need you to protect her, Jester.”

There is a long pause before a flash of purple finally glints at the corner of Caleb’s eyes. The woman in front of him is smirking but he doesn’t break her gaze.

“You forget that wizards have tricks as well,” Vera sneers.

“I forget nothing.”

Caleb feels the spell crystalizing in the air; the energy sparks as it grows in a static around her. He reaches out to stop her but his fingers fizzle, tired and dry and stagnant. He has failed.

Purple flashes again, dissolving into a murky black.

Caleb sleeps.

/

_You don’t belong here._

_That’s not to say that you’ve really belonged anywhere, but here it feels different. It feels different inside of you, except there isn’t anything inside of you._

_You take stock of what there is. Not much, at a glance. A silvery pool glistens to your left, surrounded by splotches of grey in a jagged line leading back to you. Did you come from there? They could be footprints; the soles of your feet could be wet with their memories. This realm could be a lot of things, though it doesn’t appear to have decided on any one._

_“Beauregard. At last.”_

_You straighten at the sound of his voice, moving forward instinctually. The chain of silver grows longer, adding a slippery new link with every step. You only now notice that it wraps around your waist. The edges drip and disappear._

_You sigh as you watch him, puffing a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Well, I guess that wish didn’t come true.”_

_Xenoth smiles, smug as ever. “Which one was that?”_

_“The one where I hoped real hard to never see you again.”_

_“It was never going to come true, Beau.”_

_“I’ve gotta say, I don’t think kidnapping is really gonna work for you this time. You taught me how to fight you and I’m too old to be a bargaining chip anymore. My dad forgot me years ago.”_

_“I didn’t.”_

_Your feet want to lunge forward, but your training keeps you rooted to whatever kind of ground exists. “Look,” you say, strengthening your stance, “let me know what you want from me and I’ll either give it to you or punch you until it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m tired of your bullshit, Xenoth.”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“I’m sorry? I don’t think I can be any more fuckin’ upfront about it.”_

_His mouth narrows to a line and you realize he’s not looking at you but rather focusing on a point past you. You turn to follow his eyes and watch as the line of grey grows shorter and shorter, folding in on itself as it gets closer to your body._

_Thunder claps inside your chest and rattles your limbs; you watch your skin bounce. Xenoth’s brows furrow as the feathery loop around you disappears; his yell is the last thing you hear, his eyes the last things you see._

_And then, you’re gone._

/

Caleb wakes with a gasp and a cough, exhaling ash onto the deck. The ship is moving and everything is charred. Vera’s mangled body lies ten feet away from him; he doesn’t care to know how she died. There is ringing in his ears and, too late, he remembers what woke him in the first place.

“Caleb?” Fjord repeats, his drawl softer than Caleb has ever heard it. “Are you good? Back with us?”

He coughs. “Ja,” Caleb manages. “I am here.”

“Good, because we could really use your smarts right about now.”

“Who is sailing the boat?”

“It’s a ship--you know, don’t worry about it. The fight’s over. Come on downstairs.”

Caleb follows Fjord. As they get closer to the hatch he can hear Nott as she scratches against the ceiling, no doubt trying to get to him. He begins preparing a message but the remnants of the battle settle his hands. Everyone he can see, besides Fjord, is dead. There are so many chunks and holes in the boat. It should not be floating from what Caleb can surmise. Between the broken people and the busted ship, Jester will have a lot of fixing to do.

Fjord finally opens the hatch and Nott comes barreling out, leaping onto Caleb’s back and scurrying across his shoulders, checking for injuries. “It’s not so bad,” he tries to calm, even going so far as to offer a small smile. But it dies, halfway complete, as the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Everyone is staring at him as he descends the stairs. No one is smiling. No one is relieved.

Beauregard doesn’t move.

Caleb’s breath comes quicker now as he works hard to maintain control. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs. She had been bound by a spell, unresponsive but stable. Her skin was pallid and clammy but she wasn’t wounded. Caleb had tried to get rid of it before and he tries again now, even though it surely won’t work. There are no traces of magic around her anymore, yet her body remains pale and faded.

“I don’t understand,” he repeats.

“I tried,” Jester wobbles, “I tried so hard, Caleb, but Vera followed us and surprised me and I didn’t have time to help; she was so fast, she attacked Beau before I could save her...”

“Perhaps she is not--”

“I’ve killed people just like you, Caleb; I know what a dead person looks like!” Jester snaps.

He nods, inhaling deeply. “We will bring her back,” he whispers. Caleb looks to Caduceus, whose ears droop almost to his chin. “Ja?” he continues. “We will bring her back.”

“Not tonight,” Caduceus offers.

“It has to be tonight!” Jester wails. “Caduceus, the only spells we have to bring her back have to be done right away; we have to fix her _now._ ”

Caduceus rests a calming hand on Jester’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry, Jester. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve; we should have a couple of days. For now, I think we need some time to rest.”

Caleb scoffs. He walks over to Beau and hesitates before deciding to sit at her feet.

“We will wait, then.”

/

They wait longer than Caleb would have preferred, but everyone (including him) agrees that performing a resurrection in the middle of the ocean is probably not a good idea. They’re close enough to land anyway. The sea, for once, is calm and uncluttered. Fjord runs the ship quietly but with an efficiency that only comes from practice.

Beau is never alone. One of the crew always sits with her, near her--even Orly and Marius take a turn or two. Caleb watches Jester when it’s her time. She sits the closest but never close enough to touch. Jester is more afraid than he’s ever seen her.

They reach land with a graceless thud and for a moment, no one moves.

Finally, Fjord clears his throat. “We should, uh--”

The rest of the group stirs with soft murmurs of assent. Yasha wordlessly picks Beau up and carries her gently off the ship.

The beach is cold and the wind worse, but Caduceus manages to scout out a cave about an hour inland. Caleb fires up his balls of light; they’ve spent the night in dirtier places.

“I’ve never done this spell before,” Jester whispers.

Caduceus sits next to her. “I can help.”

“We’ll all help,” Fjord adds. “Just let us know what we can do, Jester.”

Jester scoots closer to Beau and extends a shaky hand, finally touching her for the first time in days. “I want to make sure I do this right. I don’t…” She takes a breath, air catching as she exhales. “I don’t want to miss her. If you guys want to say stuff or something, that might help.”

Fjord steps forward and lays an orc tusk at her feet, the one he found after they killed Lorenzo. He waits another moment, then kicks it softly toward her hand. “I, uh, I don’t know a lot about myself right now,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure how much I want to know, given all the shit that’s gone down lately. I think I spent a lot of my life feeling afraid, and I still do. But you make me forget it. I’m a better person now than I used to be. So I’d love it if you could stick around.”

Silver sparks fly around Jester’s hands where they encircle Beau’s wrist. Fjord looks startled for a moment, then steps back with a firm nod. The cave is starting to glow, and not just from Caleb’s light spheres.

He brings them closer anyway. “May I join you?” he asks Jester, who simply nods.

Caleb steps forward a few inches and sits down, his knees bumping into Beau’s calf. “I’m sorry I don’t have any items to help you, Beau; all I am is books. For a long time that’s all I wanted to be, I wanted to escape from home and all of the awful things I did there. I know you and I didn’t get off on the right foot, I know you didn’t trust me for a long time. To be honest I’m still working on trusting everyone myself. But you--” and here, he sighs -- “I thought you were my punishment. Another child of the Empire, a constant reminder of the sins for which I can never atone. I would have left you many times in the beginning if not for Nott, as I’m sure you know.”

He fumbles inside his coat for a small, charred item, eventually reaching over Beau’s body to place it next to Fjord’s tusk. “I’m sorry that I still only have books. You gave this to me many weeks ago. It is a little burned and very fragile--much like me, I suppose. But there is use in it still, and it was an appreciated gesture. I felt, in the beginning, that you and the rest of the group were hindrances, that you were dragging me away from my intended path. I’ve since come to learn that I--”

The words catch in his throat and Jester spares a hand to lay on his shoulder.

“I would like to carry you, Beauregard, if you’ll let me.”

/

**ii.**

Jester tries not to listen to everyone crying, but it’s not very easy when she is, too. She needs to focus on forget everything else except for Beau, because bringing her back is the only way forward. Losing Molly was hard enough, but Jester wasn’t there. If she fails to save Beau, there will be no doubt whose fault it was.

The speeches from Fjord and Caleb fuel her spell; she feels brighter, a larger beacon for Beau to find. Jester closes her eyes and presses more firmly into Beau’s arm, one hand on her wrist and the other on her shoulder. Beau is strong, but Jester is stronger. She pushes her strength through her magic, letting it flow through her fingers and into the body beneath her. She can see a ball of smoke behind her eyes, small and grey but expanding very slowly.

“Hi, Beau,” she whispers. Jester isn’t sure if she’s saying it out loud or just in her head. It shouldn’t matter as long as Beau can hear her. “I hope you can hear me,” she says, just in case. “We’re all trying very hard to save you. I know I’m not the best healer and I don’t always want to do it; I would much rather hit someone with my lollipop or punch them really hard. But am the cleric. I am _your_ cleric.”

The ball of smoke has become a figure, featureless and plain. Jester shifts her magic toward it, concentrating her powers into a shimmering beam of light. It moves haltingly toward the smoke, striking it where a stomach might be.

“We haven’t gotten that much time to talk since I was kidnapped and there is so much I want to tell you, Beau. Like how much you remind me of this one zelezo who would stand outside my mamma’s tower and he was very grumpy but sometimes he left me sweets and pastries. Or, I could tell you some of the stories my mamma used to tell me and I will try my best to leave out the mushy parts, even though I think you might really like them.”

Jester removes one hand from Beau, opening her eyes to find a brush and the special paints they stole from the other pirate ship. She draws a quick ribbon on the ground and colors it in blue before picking it up. Jester loops it around Beau’s wrist, closing it with a loose knot.

“You are going to give this back to me when you wake up,” she sniffles. “And I’ll wear it around one of my horns so that you’re always with me and I will definitely never lose you.”

She closes her eyes again, this time placing her hands on Beau’s stomach. Jester has to keep reminding herself that the warmth she feels is simply from the magic.

The figure has a face now, one very similar to Beau’s. The chin is slightly more pointed and her hair is long on both sides which is very _weird_ , but Jester can fix that.

Jester focuses on Beau now, letting the magic take a backseat. She thinks about everything she knows about Beau and everything she wants to know, like if her head is a funny shape when it’s just been shaved, or what was her favorite thing growing up because everyone has one, even if they didn’t like their childhood.

_Please don’t leave me, Beau_ , she prays, and this she definitely doesn’t say out loud. _You are my favorite part about life outside of Nicodranas. We deserve more time together._

There is a wisp of a smirk on her shadow’s face. It raises a hand in a casual wave.

Jester waves back, smiling.

**iii.**

Just as quickly as you leave Xenoth in the grey emptiness, you’re back, only he isn’t there anymore. Nothing seems to be there, except for you. The pool is gone and so is the loop that was around your waist. Your skin looks pale but your head feels clear, like your body has caught up on all the sleep it needs and turned it into energy.

You can hear wisps of voices coming from every direction, though you can’t make out what they’re saying. They sound like your friends. Caleb and Jester’s voices are easier to catch, their accents floating above the murmur of everyone else. You feel an urgency to join them and you start running, but after a few moments you realize you still don’t know where they are.

You run anyway. They’ll guide you; you know that without question.

You trip over a few things on your way. One of them looks like a very long fang and you feel bad about the way it crumbles beneath your foot, but you don’t stop. The grey around you has started to lighten, glittering a pale gold at the edges of your vision. As if the sky had corners.

You shield your eyes from the light as you run towards it. Beyond the light a shape begins to darken, blue and solid and warm.

Jester is waiting for you.

/

The world is still grey the next time you wake up, only this time you can feel it. You’re somewhere outside and there are rocks poking into your back. Not the worst, but not good.

_Definitely_ not good when you try to move. “Fuuuuuuuck,” you groan, and suddenly everything in the world makes a noise at once.

Everything in the world, everything in the cave. Same thing.

“You’re awake!” Nott shouts.

“I am?” You try to lift your head. “Is that what hurts?”

You pass out again.

/

You’re in an actual room this time, though it’s still only halfway lit. It’s substantially quieter except for the smooth drag of a paintbrush over paper. You’d recognize that sound anywhere after spending so long in Jester’s company.

“Hey, Jes,” you croak,” wanna help me up?”

“Of course, Beau.” She’s closer than you thought and you jump a little at her voice. She places a stabilizing hand on your shoulder, allowing you to lean your arm on her other hand as you push yourself to a sitting position.

You feel slightly more sore than you usually do after a tough training session. What trips you up is the fatigue that lingers in your body, inside of your bones and on top of your skin. Your limbs feel like they’re twenty pounds each.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Downstairs.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“No.”

With a massive amount of effort you turn your head, tilting until you can see Jester sitting on the bed next to yours. She’s focused on the notebook in her hands, and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Jester. Hey, come on; look at me.” She doesn’t. “Are you okay?”

She sighs and ruffles her head. “Is this how you felt when we were kidnapped?” You wait as she sighs again. “You know, empty, like even though you’re back and you’re going to be okay, everything is still so close. Some days I feel like I might wake up and you’d be…”

You lean your head back against the wall. “I tried not to think about it too much,” you reply, “but yeah. I get that. If Keg hadn’t been there I probably would have stayed up all night just to make sure.” Jester nods and sniffles. “When’s the last time you slept, Jes?”

“I don’t know, maybe last night?”

“Jester.”

“Okay, definitely not last night.”

You pat the empty space on your bed. “Come on, cuddle up.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Jester. Plus I could totally use a really big hug and you need a nap.”

Jester finally gets up and shuffles over to your bed, sitting stiffly next to you. You roll your eyes and pull her down as best as you can with your tired arms. She falls inelegantly into your lap, her horns jutting into your stomach. You try your best not to make a noise.

“You’re very warm,” she says after a moment.

“Yeah? That’s always good.”

Jester nestles in more comfortably, squishing against your side and draping her arm around your middle. It feels familiar and cozy and something settles within you, and you close your eyes in relief.

“Would you be mad at me, Beau? I mean, you know, if you hadn’t come back.”

It feels so natural to retort that no, you wouldn’t be mad; you’d be dead. The words are on your tongue, waiting, but you think again before letting them go. You’re not sure what you believe in when it comes to an afterlife. Probably nothing, but sometimes it’s nice to wonder. Jester makes it nice. She believes in more than you do, so for her sake you spend a few moments thinking about her question.

“No,” you finally answer. “Whatever happens to me--today or two weeks from now or, hell, even two years from now--I know it’ll happen because you’ve done everything you possibly could to help. And I mean that for the good stuff, too, you know? You’re not just useful to me when I’m in trouble, and you didn’t just save me when you brought me back. I kind of think you do that every day.”

Jester’s hair tickles your chin as she nods against your neck. She reaches over for one of your hands, pulling it to rest on her cheek. Her lips are a little chapped but mostly soft as she kisses your palm, rubbing her thumb along your wrist.

“Please be more careful, Beau,” she whispers.

“I can’t promise that.”

“Well, then you’re never getting rid of me.”

“I’ve never really wanted to.”

“Oh, good.”

/

She kisses you on the mouth the next time you wake up and many times after. You smooth the tears from her cheeks as routinely as she tends to your bruises, and for a while even those fade.

Beneath your ribs something is starting to bloom, warm and teal and safe.


End file.
